


Habits in Love

by Ellegamgee



Category: The Penumbra Podcast
Genre: (I just needed Rilla to be annoyed about something), But written before the pandemic, F/M, M/M, Multi, Please Just Go With It, Possibly incorrect medical terminology, Slight mention of medical terminology, So its not Like That, Very vague allusion to a quarantine situation, canon typical Arum confused about humans, canon typical angry Rilla, canon typical motherly Keep, canon typical wordy and anxious Damien, mostly just cutesy bouquet moment, slight anger and angst, sometime after season 2, technically non-canon compliant :), until she isn't isn't anymore
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-20
Updated: 2019-11-20
Packaged: 2021-02-13 13:41:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,294
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21495214
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ellegamgee/pseuds/Ellegamgee
Summary: Otherwise Titled:TktktktktktktktktktktkFor everyone who has ever done the "tktktktktktktktk" out loud. Including you, if you just did it right now.You know you did.
Relationships: Lord Arum/Rilla (Penumbra Podcast), Lord Arum/Sir Damien (Penumbra Podcast), Lord Arum/Sir Damien/Rilla (Penumbra Podcast), Sir Damien/Rilla (Penumbra Podcast)
Comments: 26
Kudos: 114





	Habits in Love

**Author's Note:**

> If you want to chat on tumblr, I have one under the same name. I don't post much, but would love to chat!

If someone were to ask her, Rilla might brush off any inquiries about her temper. When pressed, however, Rilla would probably admit that she was prone to bouts of angry ranting and yelling, taking out her feelings on those around her. Few, though, could get Rilla to say so. Indeed, it was mostly narrowed down to her two loves, with perhaps a handful of others at most, since these were the people who saw Rilla when these moods took her, and did their best to help her through them. To Rilla, the problem was often that the world, and the people in it, were not _ making sense _ . Rilla, being a _ scientist _ , as well as a doctor, needed things to make sense, to follow some sort of logic, and when it did not, this _ bothered _ Rilla deeply. If explaining herself, Rilla might also mention that her job required the patience of a _ literal Saint _ , so if she occasionally lost it, the reason might simply have been that _ some people _ liked to _ push _ her patience until it _ broke _ . Both explanations were true, though it could just as easily be said that this was part of who Rilla _ was _ , as much _ Rilla _ as her kindness, her wisdom, and her curiosity.

Like it or not, Amaryllis of Exile had a furious streak to her sometimes. Those were the moments when Damien compared her to a storm in his poetry, and would either attempt to placate her or ride the waves of said storm until she calmed again. Arum, not used to dealing with another person’s moods, more often than not would metaphorically bite back when Rilla spoke such; though he had also learned from a close source how to be a helpful listener, and would do so on his better days, letting her get her thoughts out of her system. Rilla was lucky to have them, for these and other reasons, just as they often felt privileged to have her. They were her balance and support through a life that was frequently trying. 

One such moment found the trio resting in one of Arum’s many gardens. At least, Arum and Damien were resting, Arum leaning against a tree and Damien pressed against his side. Rilla, in contrast, was standing, pacing, whipping her body and waving her arms as she spoke. Damien’s form was taut, his eyes meeting his love’s whenever she turned his direction, the pinnacle of attentiveness. Though she knew it could just as easily be credited to his mind silently composing, Rilla appreciated this, knowing it took effort for one so prone to speech to instead listen. To someone who did not know him well, Arum would seem a stark juxtaposition, laying back with two of his arms behind his head, eyes lidded so that he almost looked to be attempting at sleep. But Rilla knew that there were very few who Arum would be so still for, and that the twitch of a jagged grin frequently gracing his face was a slip of emotion rarely ever seen. These quiet displays of love would be touching, if Rilla wasn’t already feeling so. . . infuriated. Well, annoyed might be the better word. But hey, Damien wasn’t the only one who could be overdramatic. (Perhaps that is something that all three of them found, unconsciously, attractive in the others, since it was a quality they all shared: a flare for the dramatic when in the mood for it.)

It seemed that Rilla was quite on a roll this time. Originally, the topic of conversation (if it could be called that, when one voice was mainly heard over the other two) was a certain knight who had been to her hut for help. “Apparently, he passed through a village under _strict quarantine for influenza_, despite _several warnings_, repeatedly tried to ask the people for dinner or a place to stay, _again despite warnings_, and stayed the night with one of the few other people within the village bounds who would _stupidly_ grant him a bed, _once again despite warnings_. Then, Sir Idiot- no, Damien, I will not use his real name,_ he doesn’t deserve it_\- comes to my hut to see if he is sick _just in case_.” There was a split second when Damien almost protested this description of his fellow knight, but thought better of it, nodding instead at her fair criticism. Behind him, Arum could be heard (and felt) making a faint rumbling, hissing noise, his version of a chuckle at the idiocy of this patient. “Luckily, thank the Saints, he wasn’t showing any symptoms, and _somehow_, probably didn’t get sick. Why the Saints have protected such an imbecile is beyond me. Even more of a miracle, I somehow convinced him to visit an uncle of his who lives alone in the forest a ways out. Best I could do. So now, if Sir Moron is sick and shows symptoms late, those who can catch it from him will be minimized, and hopefully said uncle would _knock the sense into him_ if that happens.” Rilla huffed and sat down next to the others in exasperation.

“You are wise as you are lovely, my dear Rilla.” Damien said softly, reaching a hand to hold one of her own. “Saint Damien be praised, that your compassion and knowledge were able to help my fellow knight, as well as countless others. Still, I do apologize and beg forgiveness on his behalf for his actions, uncaring and senseless as they were, causing you so much vexation.” His thumb rubbed circles on her palm, a calming effort that grounded her.

“Well, of course Amaryllis is the best at what she does. Not a high bar for you humans.” Arum snarled, masking concern with his tone, eyes studying her carefully. “Still, you are leagues more clever than other silly humans, and that stupid knight is lucky you didn’t just slam your door in his face. Would serve him right.” He ran a hand through the grass. As if on cue (or perhaps it was, Rilla was never sure just what Arum and the Keep could communicate without words), Rilla heard cascading notes, a strange symphony of love and support from nowhere and everywhere. 

Too soon, this brought her to other thoughts that Rilla couldn’t quite keep in, finally able to express them to those who would listen, and not just have them echoing trapped in her mind. “You know what? Screw knights in general.” Rilla stood quickly once more, causing Damien’s head to dart back in surprise. “Well, okay, most knights. _Present company_ and _maybe_ a few others excluded, pretty much all the knights I know think they are _so much better_ than everyone else, when they could really just use a reality check. Anyone who isn’t a knight or on their level is someone who is there only to fawn over them or to be saved, never mind anything else. More intent on saving the day than thinking things through, and so focused on their brawn that their brains are stagnating.” Damien’s brow furrowed and his lips pursed, but not in argument against her points. Instead, it was as if her assessment hit too close to home, though these were things he was trying to improve upon in himself and those knights that he could influence.

“In fact, if it wasn’t for you, Damien, and I suppose some of our friends, I would really want to just get rid of all of them, and wouldn’t count it as a loss.” Past the point of conscious thinking, Rilla threw her hands in the air and made a sound of disgust, mind already reeling, so that she barely knew what her body and voice were doing. She turned away from her sitting loves, attempting to calm herself a bit, and already somewhat regretful, though she would not take a single word back. Slowly, Rilla's breathing became less ragged, her thoughts less racing. _ You're all right, Rilla. Face them, let them help you. _The detached, physician's part of her mind thought, a sure sign she was closer to normal.

The sight Rilla was met with when she turned back around surprised her. The look on Damien’s face was no longer one of embarrassment, but instead. . . amusement? He seemed to be just barely able to hold back laughter, though Rilla had no idea why. Stranger still, Damien could not stop glancing at Arum, who was . . . . Rilla couldn’t quite tell. Arum was staring intently at Rilla, head tilted. He looked at her like she was a problem he had to decipher, his still, calm face barely hiding warring emotions within his mind. This puzzled Rilla, though she had at least one hypothesis as to why. _ Maybe he is mad at me on Damien’s behalf? _

Partly to test this, and partly because she wanted to fix things now that she had cooled down a bit, Rilla spoke up. “Sorry. That was. . . out of line. I really shouldn’t have said that, it was rude, and over generalizing, and mean. Damien. . . Arum. . . I’m sorry.” She joined them sitting in the grass. Arum was still backed against the tree, and Damien sat between them, hands laid out placatingly, one toward Arum, the other toward Rilla. Her apology only seemed to intensify both the delight sparkling in Damien’s eyes and the unexplainable look on Arum’s face. Confusion? Anger? _ What was wrong with him? Or with her, that Arum was looking at her like that? _

“Oh, my flower, you needn’t apologize for your feelings about my fellow knights, for I know that many of them fall drastically short of how a knight should be. Indeed, your experience with. . . most knights, give you every reason to feel as such, though I am happy to find myself among the exceptions to that rule. I only ask that you have patience for those of us who are truly trying to better the world." The poet paused, hesitant, strangely at a loss for words. "That is not. . . I am not concerned. . . about that.” Damien shifted his attention toward Arum, as he put a hand on one of his scaly shoulders. “Dear Arum, I don’t think she was doing that on purpose. She simply. . . .”

“Do you truly not _ know_, Amaryllis?” Arum snapped. “I am not sure if I should be complimented, since Damien has claimed such things as a form of flattery in the past. . . or insulted that you are mocking me. . . or simply concerned that your mind has been lost. I would like an _ explanation _, Amaryllis.” The claws from two of Arum’s hands stroked circles on the tree he leaned against, as he unconsciously attempted to hold back what was going through his mind. Around them, a faint humming could be heard, as if the Keep itself shared Arum’s emotions, though it also seemed to be trying to help him keep them under control. Though both seemed to be trying to hide them, this only served to make Arum’s feelings all the more apparent and upsetting to his loves.

“What are you _talking_ about, Arum?” Rilla was really worried now, fully back to her senses after her tirade. “If I insulted you, if I said or did something. . . . I didn’t mean to. I know I can say and do some things that are . . . pretty bad, when I get as angry as I was. But that’s not an excuse, and I am sorry.” She paused, looking him in the eyes. “But could you please tell me what it was, so I don’t do it again, and so I can really apologize?” When Arum did not reply after a few moments, Rilla looked to Damien. Too often, he was stuck in the middle of such moments, quenching the fire that flared within his two loves, when one threatened to metaphorically burn the other. This was a position he was used to, though it did not come easily at times.

“You see, Rilla, when you finished speaking, you made. . . well, a sound, a noise.” Rilla could tell Damien was having a difficult time with his explanation, looking toward Arum, then back into Rilla’s eyes, repeatedly. “And it was. . . remarkably. . . exactly. . . like. . . .”

“Spit it _ out _, honeysuckle, tktktktktktktktktk.” Arum demanded, shrugging Damien’s hand off his shoulder in irritation.

“Like that.” Damien stated quietly. “Your sound of frustration was the same one that we often hear from our lily, when he feels the same way you did. That is why I guessed that you were not doing so on purpose, to hurt or mock, but had picked up the habit from him.”

_Oh. Now I get it. _Rilla thought. She recalled the end of her rant, how she had expressed her frustration with a wordless sound. _I suppose the noise I made may have sounded . . . a little . . . or exactly. . . like Arum. No wonder he is annoyed. I suppose I did sound like I was making fun of him, which would hurt if it were true. _Arum had crossed two of his arms as he stared at her, watching this realization dawn across her face. Rilla moved slowly closer to him, and held his two remaining hands in hers. He did not protest, but did not otherwise move, either.

“I am sorry, Arum. Damien’s right, though. I didn’t. . . honestly, I didn’t even know that was the noise I had made. I guess. . . . People will develop the habits of those they care about, you know, using the same actions, and words, and . . . sounds, without even meaning to. . . or even knowing they are doing it. At least, I know humans do. I don’t know about monsters.” Rilla hesitantly smiled at Arum, whose face seemed to have softened somewhat. “I probably have picked up a few . . . poetic phrases here and there from Damien, and he probably knows more of a healer’s vocabulary than most knights ever will.” Damien and Rilla could hear (and feel) a chuckle rattle through Arum, a toothy grin acknowledging that this was something that he had noticed, too. 

“Arum. . . if you don’t like that I did that, I will do my very best to never do it again, especially if it really bothers you so much.” The sincerity and caring in Rilla’s voice caused Arum to drop his crossed arms, stubbornness melting away with the love that was practically audible. “Just. . . please know that I understand how much being taunted can sting, especially by someone you care about. And even though we poke fun at each other all the time. . . I want to do my best not to really hurt you, and would never do so on purpose. I’m not as good with my words as Damien, but just know that I really am sorry.”

“Ridiculous human.” The anger had left Arum’s voice, replaced with fond annoyance at worst. He seemed to be able to find the humor in the situation, now that he knew what was really going on. “Perhaps I have brought out the monstrousness in you, just like I saw in our honeysuckle at our first meeting.” Arum looked to Damien, to share a knowing smile. Yet Damien looked bashfully away. “Honeysuckle? Damien, what’s wrong?”

“Oh, Arum. . . . Lord Arum, I. . .I. . . I must speak my heart.” Damien locked eyes with Arum, hesitant but forcing himself to speak. “I have. . . Rilla is not the only one who has accidentally. . . spoke in your manner, though as with Rilla. . . it was my voice speaking against the will of my conscious mind.” When Arum tilted his head once more, questioning, Damien quietly made his own version of Arum's vocalization. “I have found. . . I have done this occasionally. . . as my mind wanders creating tale and verse, when you are the subject. It is as though my thoughts, lingering on your actions, your form, your love and my love for you in return. . . have caused me to act in your ways. Though I have never done so in your presence, nor, I think, in Rilla’s, I am surprised that you did not know of this, for I believe it has happened at least a time or two within these walls.” Seemingly from nowhere, a vine ruffled Damien’s hair in affection. Arum half-heartedly glared up and around himself in exasperation, but couldn’t muster much more than that. 

"My apologies . . . my sincerest. . . I hope. . . please know. . . . As Rilla said, such things are only evidence of our devotion, but I have made an effort not to do so, and will continue this, for I would not knowingly hurt you for the wide world. . . .” Damien rung his hands, and could have easily continued this pained confession, if Arum hadn’t interrupted him.

“It’s fine, honeysuckle. You, too, Amaryllis.” Arum’s voice still sounded a bit disgruntled, but a hint of a laugh was hidden within it, and he couldn’t help but smile at his humans, now that he knew the full story. “You needn’t . . . hold yourselves back on my account. In fact, now that I know why it is happening, it is. . amusing to hear your limited human voices attempting the way I speak, tktktktktktktktktk.” This time, it was not in frustration, but in delight, that this noise came from him, though just as spontaneous. Arum pulled them both close, giving each a nuzzle that was his approximation of a kiss. This was returned quickly in kind from his relieved humans, Damian his frill, Rilla on his nose.

“Though I must say, I have found out today that you humans are even more absurd than I previously thought, so easily influenced by others. Saints Above, you humans are. . . .” Arum abruptly stopped, and in the split second after speaking, made a very undignified noise, then clamped two hands over his mouth, as if he could have stopped these words from escaping, if only he had caught them in time. 

Wordlessly, silently, Rilla and Damien’s eyes met. Rilla raised an eyebrow, and Damien followed suit. Attempting, very much in vain, at a blank expression, Rilla looked at Arum, who was trying to look everywhere in the Keep but either human’s eyes. Drily, seriously, Rilla spoke. “We humans are. . . what, Arum?” That sent Damien over the edge to uncontrollable laughter, with Rilla lasting barely a second more before doing the same. 

Arum’s first instinct was to be defensive, face tensing in a sneer, frill flared. Quickly, though, Arum’s mind caught up with him, and realized the fruitlessness of this. Instead, Arum did the only logical thing at this point. “You are _ my _ . . . .” Without warning, he swept first Damien, then Rilla, up into a lifting embrace, spinning amidst noises of both protest and glee from the pair of them. At last, they fell into a pile, all tangled up together, exactly the way they all liked it. “You are _ my _ humans.” he completed. “My ridiculous, ridiculous humans. Tktktktktktktktktk.” 

Naturally, both humans couldn’t help but echo him, this time on purpose for his amusement. And just as naturally, Arum took the opportunity to imitate both his humans, as well as others they knew, for their great enjoyment in return. The Keep around them spoke a quiet song of love, vines creeping to caress, poke, tease, showing it's own happiness, that those in it's care were happy. Maybe Rilla was imagining it, but she felt she could almost hear Arum’s chortle, or Damien’s laugh, or her own giggle, within its notes. Whether or not it could be proven, it felt _true_, as true as how she and Damien and Arum fit together, influencing each other down to the core.

In the end, joy had drowned out all of their frustration and anger, confusion and fear, worry and concern. And if they all had perhaps found a strategy for the future, to distract and help either of the others through difficult emotions, well, that was all the better indeed. 


End file.
